


Yellow

by supernaturalandshiz



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Bulimia, Eating Disorders, Episode: s02e15 Revelations, Hurt Spencer Reid, Not Beta Read, Past Drug Addiction, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, The BAU Team as Family (Criminal Minds), Work In Progress, i am projecting so hard with this, mentions of tobias hankle and, over use of descriptors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29008713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernaturalandshiz/pseuds/supernaturalandshiz
Summary: Doctor Spencer Reid had never been particularly mindful of what he put into his body. Coffee with way too much sugar was a staple and home-cooked meals were a rarity. It had never been much of a problem, after all, people were always telling him how skinny he was. Of course, along with that, came the mockery of his choices. His pride had always been with his brain, not his body, so it came as a surprise when the comments started to bother him.
Relationships: The BAU Team & Spencer Reid
Comments: 21
Kudos: 106





	1. Look at the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> This is potentially triggering and focuses on the swamp of emotions that revolve around our body images. It was loosely based on Yellow by Coldplay but not enough so to call it a song fic. 
> 
> I will try to update as much as possible.

Doctor Spencer Reid had never been particularly mindful of what he put into his body. Coffee with way too much sugar was a staple and home-cooked meals were a rarity. It had never been much of a problem, after all, people were always telling him how skinny he was. Of course, along with that, came the mockery of his choices. His pride had always been with his brain, not his body, so it came as a surprise when the comments started to bother him.

Logically, he knew that Morgan’s words didn’t have any malice behind them, but it was still upsetting. _“Chinese again? Maybe you’ll finally get some meat on your bones.”_ His friend's voice rang in his head as he stepped off the metro. 

_Right to Hau’s Garden, Left to home._ Turning left, he hung his head. The woman ringing a bell by the Salvation Army donation box glared at him as he passed. _Nothing new._ As he exited the station to the street above and looked to the stars, it began to rain. _Typical._

The sky seemed to reflect his feelings. Spencer didn’t understand why he was feeling so down. Climbing the steps up to his apartment, he pulled his keys from his pocket. He dumped his bag by the couch and flopped onto his bed, then curled around his growling stomach and drifted off, still in his wool suit.

  
  
  


Soft rays of sunlight came through the parted curtains. Dust particles wafted through the early morning air. Wind nipped at the noses of people walking on the near empty streets.

Disrupting the calm atmosphere, a loud alarm ripped through the air. The young FBI agent fumbled to dismiss it. Getting out of bed, he padded toward his wardrobe. He pulled his work clothes from yesterday off, feeling oddly stiff and weary. Across the room, the mirror caught his eye. It stood against the wall, held firmly in place by a stack of books. A crack ran across the top and a paw print from when Garcia brought Sergio to visit was left in the bottom corner. 

He looked at his own reflection. Comparing himself to his colleagues, he felt disgust nag at the back of his mind. Pulling on fresh clothes, he grabbed a muffin off of his counter and left.

  
  
  


In the breakroom, Spencer was suffering. He had cut down considerably on the amount of sugar he put in his coffee, which did not have a desirable effect. With the normal two that Hotch would have suggested, he had already doubled his intake. Still, he cut himself off at lunch. They didn’t have a case today, _yet_ , he thought. 

Just as he mulled over that thought, Hotch called for them to be at the round table in 15. He sighed, looking at his unfinished chili. Alex had made some for dinner the night before and brought her masterpiece in for the rest of the team to share. With the weight of a new case setting in, he returned the bowl to the mini-fridge. 

  
  
  


The case was in Georgia, _just my luck_. Prostitutes were being killed, and the violence escalated with each instance. They had worked plenty of cases in Georgia, he was fine with them, but this case was the first case in Atlanta for a long time. They were called in after the M.E. found drugs in the victims systems that decidedly weren’t consented to, based on the bruising and scrapes on their arms.

It was startling to say the least, the dramatic similarities to the case that rocked his world back in 2007. His kidnapping and the years after were at the front of his mind on the jet there. He jolted back to reality when his best friend sat across from him. Her hand slipped across the table toward his, nails haphazardly painted a sweet shade of yellow by Henry. 

Her voice dropped to a whisper to save him from the embarrassment of their team over-hearing, “I know that this case feels familiar. If you need a break at any point, Hotch won’t mind. None of us will.” Her soothing voice, along with the topic, pulled him roughly into a flashback.

_“I am so sorry.” Hugging JJ felt safe, and yet, his mind was everywhere but her mumbled apology. Everything hurt. Still, “It’s all right. It wasn’t your fault.” It was all too much. Even as he leaned against Gideon, he was in so much_ _pain_ _. “Please… can I have a second alone.”_ _Guilt_ _and_ _shame_ _crashed over him in waves as he stumbled to Tobias. He knew, as his hand wrapped around the vials, there was no going back. He was supposed to be smarter than this, he was supposed to-_

“Spence?” He struggled to re-focus his eyes, looking back to JJ. “You okay?” She searched his face, but he quickly shook the memory from his mind.

“Fine JJ, just tired.” Her mothering gaze still bored into him. “Really.” 

The case wrapped up relatively quickly and they were back in Quantico in no time.

Garcia managed to rope them all into dinner at the Chinese restaurant they frequented. When Spencer agreed, he was optimistic, but now, sitting in his usual spot, he felt disgusting. 

The greasy noodles felt like they were choking him as they inched down his throat. He had gone for bourbon chicken tonight, but it felt like a bloody carnage. His stomach felt as if it were weighing him down. 

_After skipping even one meal, your blood sugar goes down drastically. Your brain runs primarily on glucose and when there isn't enough sugar in your blood to pull from, you lose your ability to focus._ Spencer kept repeating this to himself until he had choked down enough to be deemed acceptable by his companions.

Through his internal monologue, he had failed to participate in the conversations around him. Hearing his name being called repeatedly, he looked up. _You’re pitiful._ The voice that rang in his head wasn’t his. He shook himself out of it again. _What is happening to me?_

“What’s going on in that big brain of yours, Pretty Boy?” He was worrying his friends, he knew that, but his breathing was picking up and he couldn’t concentrate on anything.

“Nothing I,” he scrambled to his feet, “I’ll be right back,” and shot toward the restrooms, staggering slightly. _This isn’t normal._ He braced himself on a sink and peered up.

The reflection glared back at him. His eyes were glazed and he was starting to sweat. His arm hurt. His arm hurt. Tears welled in his eyes and his heart skipped a beat. _Cravings._ A silent sob clawed its way out of him, reverberating in his chest. _This was_ _not_ _expected._ He had been clean for so long, he couldn’t ruin it now, _what I’m going to do? Why is this happe-_

Like most of his ramblings, he was cut short, this time by a burly man who coughed awkwardly upon entering, so Spencer took his leave as quickly as possibly. He knew that his team would most definitely try to interrogate him the next day, but he needed to get home. 

He fell asleep in his work clothes again, this time with his nails clawing at his flesh and tear tracks on his face. 

  
  
  


Everyone was worried about him. They flitted around him throughout the day, silent, just like they had been after Hankle. _What?_ He didn’t blame them. He never had. Why did he feel like his mind was betraying him? 

He could feel Hotch’s eyes on him through the unit chief’s window. Rossi kept coming around to his desk to see if he wanted coffee. Alex asked for his help with a crossword (which he was sure she could do on her own). Derek patiently listened through all of his rants. JJ, like the wonderful best friend she was, gave him kind words and promised to be there for him (a traitoring voice at the back of his mind shouted, _liar_ ). Garcia brought home-made brownies and reserved an extra one just for him (which he didn’t eat). He was also pretty sure that she was updating Emily regularly ( _Doesn’t she have more important things to worry about?_ ). 

It was all so humiliating. He knew that they were worried and still trying to give him space, which he appreciated greatly. It just felt so suffocating. Especially in contrast to their usual reactions. He was relieved to get back to the confines of his apartment.


	2. I Wrote a Song for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex asked a question and it ended with a development.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also watered this down into a one-shot.

Spencer had been in a rut for almost a month now. Most of the time, he chose to sleep through the cravings. _At least it isn’t withdrawals._ He also also wasn’t eating as much, opting to go through paperwork or read. 

He ambled into the bathroom and stared at his reflection. He was long overdue for a shower, grimy hair sticking out in several directions. _Its probably been like a week_ , he regarded. Shame washed over him. He let his friends see him like this. _What’s wrong with me?_

He stared at his nude form. He loathed what he saw. Stepping onto the scale he faltered in his routine. He had gained weight. The realization felt heavy. He couldn’t stop the tears. He was feeling too many emotions at once. Spencer had never been good with emotions, so he dealt with it the only way he knew how. Shoving everything to the back of his mind, he twisted the knob on the shower to a scalding temperature.

He stopped by his kitchen counter on his way to the door. He stared at the foods that sat there. Nutritional facts flashed into the forefront of his mind. _117 calories, 195 calories, 105 calories._ It was all too much. He left.

Lunch rolled around and his stomach ached for food. He weighed his options. _352 calories, 290 calories, 206 calories_. He spent his lunch break in the bathroom.

_After skipping even one meal, your blood sugar goes down drastically. Your brain runs primarily on glucose and when there isn't enough sugar in your blood to pull from, you lose your ability to focus._ For dinner, he muddled through a serving of microwavable jasmine rice. _238 calories_.

They had dealt with a lot of different people while working cases, so Spencer had spoken to quite a few people with eating disorders. _This is how it starts_ , the thought was familiar to him. 

_He knew, as his hand wrapped around the vials, there was no going back._

  
  
  


The next day, Spencer was overwhelmed with shame. _One addiction after another_ . He felt so pitiful. He forced himself to swallow down half of a banana, _53 calories_ . He made himself a sandwich in the breakroom, _266 calories_ . What he hadn’t taken into account, was that there was also a planned team dinner. Rossi was making chicken tetrazzini and he wouldn’t miss it for the world but, _480 calories_. His chest tightened.

He made it through the meal as normally as he could, laughing along to his friends jokes and flushing as they recounted embarrassing memories to the newer members of the team. Then, his stomach dropped. 

“Hey, I know this isn’t any of my business, but I’m curious. I saw a file labeled ‘Tobias Hankle’ the other day, the details in it seemed interesting, but there was a lot left out. Why is that? If you’re willing of course.” The way that Alex proposed the question gave them all plenty of room to back out, but the team’s reactions only served to make her more curious, and hook Rossi into her suspicion. 

They all turned to look at Spencer with nervous gazes and he sighed. “As you probably saw, the case was in Atlanta. The police got a call from a group of unsubs that ‘Raphael’ was going to kill someone and when police arrived, a couple was already dead. When we got to the crime scene, we figured out that the unsubs had hacked into a laptop camera and recorded the entire thing.”

_People had_ _enjoyed_ _watching a gruesome murder. Thinking about it still made him shudder._

“The next murder was a handyman. The woman he slept with was missing. JJ and I went to interview a potential witness while everyone else went to the crime scene.”

_Just the thought of that day grips his chest with an indescribable fear. It leaves him in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. But right now, it wraps a cold hand around his throat._

“When we talked to Tobias, he claimed that he hadn’t called the police, but i figured that the only reason to do that would be to gauge response time. When we looked into his window, we saw the webcams, but he saw us first and ran.”

_And then I made the worst decision of my life._

“We didn’t have service, so instead of calling for backup, I made the decision to split up. JJ went in the front and I was supposed to take the back, but I heard rustling in the field.” He was silent for a moment before looking down, “I’m so sorry JJ.”

_I almost got you killed. It would have been my fault. If I had just_ _listened_ _, none of this would have happened._

JJ realized that he needed a moment, so she picked up for him. “In the barn, I found the missing woman. She had been mauled and killed by dogs. They came after me and I had to shoot them.”

Spencer continued with, “When I heard JJ scream, I tried to get back to the barn but To-” He took a breath, “He pointed a gun at me and that is when I realised. There weren’t three unsubs, there was one with Multiple Personality Disorder, which is now called Dissociative Identity Disorder.”

_Watching Tobias and his father argue with only a finger between his head and a bullet was alarming, to say the least. It had been the most terrifying moment of his life up to that point._

He was carefully monitoring both his words and inflection, and the reception of his story. “He took me to his shed and Raphael told me to ‘confess’”

_“I’m not a sinner.” “Time to confess, Spencer Reid.” The pain rippling through him. “I… I don’t have anything to confess.”_

“Uh,” he felt the panic bubbling in him, and ignored it. “After a while he...left and when he returned, he was Tobias again and…” the story was getting choppy and he didn’t know whether or not it was okay to tell this part. His voice was strained when he choked, “he drugged me. Dilaudid.”

_“Don’t. Please don’t.” “Please. I don’t want it. I don’t want it. Please.” “Please don’t.” He remembers the first high. Reliving his parents last fight. “I’m not weak.”_

His newest friends were looking at him with a familiar pity. The same one that his team watched him with in 2007. “He set up a camera and routed it to his home computer, so that they would see it and Garcia couldn’t track it. He told me to choose someone to die and he would send an address of someone to save.”

_He felt the pang of_ _guilt_ _of watching someone die and not being able to do anything about it. He was young then, he wasn’t used to it yet. He had stared blankly ahead when Gideon told him it wasn’t his fault, high off of his mind and not processing the words._

“Garcia managed to stop the videos from reaching anyone else but he blamed it on me and when he saw… uh…” He dug his nails into his arm under the table. It was something he did often when he was trying to get clean and it grounded him. “He just got angrier.”

He saw Garcia’s eyes fill with tears. She remembered. “He…” The silence wore on.

_“Confess!” A hit landed. “I haven’t done anything.” Another.” “Tobias, help me.” Landing on the floor. Convulsions tearing through his body while he gasped for air. His pulse slowing in his ears._

“I died…” Alex and Rossi were shocked. Their faces would have been comedical if his heart wasn’t pounding so fast. “Then Tobias gave me CPR. When Raphael took over again, he thought that our team were the seven angels of death. He told me to choose some one and I-” The panic set into his airway. 

_“Your team members - choose one to die.” He wasn’t going to let his_ _family_ _get hurt because of_ _his_ _mistake. “Kill me.” “Tell me who dies.” “No.” The gun being raised to his head. Again. “No.” He glared into the eyes of his captor. He hadn’t felt relief when it went off to reveal a blank. “I won’t do it.” Blank. How do I get out of this? “_ _Life is a choice._ _” That had stayed with him longer that he was willing to admit. “No.” Blank. Statistically, the chances of the gun going off raised with each blank. “Choose.” An idea. “I… I choose… Aaron Hotchner.” He made sure to embedded a clue. Prayed to a god that he didn’t believe in that Hotch would understand. The gunshot rang above his head._

“I told him Hotch but I left a clue. That’s how they found me.” He paused again. “I was high when I confessed. He made me dig my own grave.”

_The_ _relief_ _when Tobias confirmed that they were in a cemetery. He could have cried if the situation wasn’t so dangerous. Then it was over. He watched his mom beg him to not let them take her away. “I’m so sorry.” Then again, the_ _guilt_ _._

He looked at Alex when her mouth opened. She floundered for a moment then cleared her throat. “Sorry to interrupt, but, what did you confess to?”

He hadn’t told the team this. _Any of this._ “My mom. I couldn't take care of her anymore. He quoted Exodus. ‘And he that curseth his father or his mother… shall surely be put to death.”

“While I was digging, I saw flashlights through the trees. When he turned, I grabbed his gun and uh, yeah. I watched Tobias die. After he saved my life. It was kind of difficult to get over,” he chuckled dryly. He saw the look in Morgan’s eyes, guilt from when he brushed off their conversation about Adam.

_“Reid!” They were here. “I’m sorry.” Hotch pulled him from the body. At the time, he was more opposed to physical affection than now, but hugging the other agent brought comfort. “I knew you’d understand.” He was safe._

“Before we left, I asked for a moment alone, and that's…” _Shame._ “I grabbed his Dilaudid. I was addicted for around three months before I managed to get clean,” he looked at his lap, “alone.” When he looked back up he saw his unit chief looking at him with the tense sympathy he was used to.

He couldn’t finish the rest of his meal. Instead, he coughed awkwardly and made an excuse to get up. He made his way from Rossi’s back yard to his house mansion. Mind numb, he kneeled in front of a toilet. It took him a moment to process what he was doing before panicking and scrambled back. 

_If you continually force your body to purge, it will adapt and become more prone to throwing up on its own. When this adaptation occurs, you will begin having issues eating large meals, and you will find yourself throwing up more often without even trying to._

His brain hurt too much to recognize the danger of what he was doing to himself.

_“I know what it looks like when someone’s not well. It’s maybe the one time I can tell you something that you don’t already know. It might help you forget, but it won’t make it go away, and if I can tell- You're surrounded by some of the best minds in the world. If you think they don’t notice, well, for a genius, that’s just dumb.”_

Spencer had always been susceptible to addiction. First it had been caffeine, then, in the dark months after he sent his mother to the sanitarium, self harm. Back to caffeine, then, of course, Dilaudid. For years, he had once again returned to the steady constant of downing cups of coffee. Now, he was falling down another rabbit hole. He could feel the edges of despair creeping up onto him again. 

He was a person who needed the stability of constants in his life. He was very dependent on the people around him and it often backfired. Like now, he knew what was happening. Every time he looked into Alex’s eyes, he saw how Gideon looked at him. It was inevitable. Someone would take her place and that hurt.

Something inside him churned and he made a split second decision.

_Every time_ _he thought about how he treated Emily, he felt sick. She had replaced Elle and for the first few weeks after Hankel, the fresh face had brought too much discomfort in his vulnerability._

With the dull ache of pain in his veins, he recognized that he could possibly lash out on a new person, but it didn't matter. He shoved two fingers down his throat and gagged.

He choked out chunks of food with tears beginning to roll down his face. The pressure of the night was too much. He continued to regurgitate until his hands, clutching the porcelain, almost triggered the bidet. The agent leaned back, coughing hard. Standing, he wiped his mouth with his hand.

It took a lot of control to not burst back into sobs when he looked into the mirror. He couldn’t even recognise himself. His hair was too flat and his sweater vest was crumpled. So, he popped his head out the french doors, bid adieu, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was hard to convey the emotions in a situation like this but I tried my best. Hope it's okay :P


	3. Then I Took My Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer has a few panic attacks and his friends become more concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will probably only be a few more chapters after this one :)

While Spencer struggled internally, his friends kept growing more anxious. Penelope felt very uncomfortable talking about Reid behind his back, but Derek was right, it was obvious that he wasn’t taking care of himself. Currently the two very worried agents were in the tech room.

After Hankle, no one had been there for Reid, they watched on the sidelines as he floundered for a sense of normalcy. They watched when he shattered in the wake of Gideon leaving and turned away when he reached out for help. Pretending that nothing was happening was so much easier than confronting it head on, so when JJ heard her bestfriends cries from the bathroom and strolled swiftly back to her office, no one had blamed her. When he snapped at Emily, they said it was a simple trauma response. When Derek had found a syringe in the others car and disposed of it without a word, everyone was content with acting like it solved the problem. But that was seven years ago and they had grown up. They were no longer naive enough to let him suffer alone.

“I’ve spent hours researching and some of the stuff I came up with is… it’s pretty gruesome.” She hoped that they were wrong; that nothing was up with the genius and they could move on, but she knew it wasn't likely.

“Alright, let me look.” She slid her chair away and Derek took her place. He looked over the list of possible problems that Garcia compiled. It was organized from the most to least urgent. He grimaced when he saw the first possibility.

_Relapse._

“Oh god,” he looked over his shoulder, “you don’t think…” Penelope was close to crying. “We’ve got to talk to him, Baby Girl.”

“We don’t know what it is. We could be wrong; keep reading.”

_PTSD_

_Cravings_

_Eating Disorders_

That one had confused the techie, but it had shown up in the results of her criteria search.

_Depression_

_Insomnia_

The list went on, but Morgan had seen enough. “We keep an eye on him. If it gets worse, we’ll probably get our answer, then we’ll have to talk to him.”

  
  
  


Spencer Reid had a complicated relationship with this bathroom specifically. It was the least populated one, on the far side of their floor. He had been avoiding it since he got clean; the reminder of what he had become repulsed him, but now, as he trembled, it was a comfort.

The trigger was something stupid. He was reading a case report and everything was normal, until he saw the notes from the sheriff. _Suspect appears to be playing a sick game of Russian roulette._ There was no need to fly out for this case, the local P.D. was able to wrap it up within the week. _The asshole made them choose the next victim._

Sometimes, he can still feel the terror in him when the muzzle was raised to him or he heard the click of the trigger. For a while, he had wondered why he didn’t die that night. Thought hard about how ‘lucky’ he was. No one should have to experience that horror.

He flinched when the door hit the wall and panicked eyes met Morgan’s. “Pretty Boy, what’s going on?” He ended up brushing it off with an excuse of the other bathrooms being filled and skirted around the older. Derek grew more wary. 

He and Garcia had roped in the majority of their team to watch Reid. With how obvious they were being, it was a wonder the other didn’t notice when he was followed into the bathroom, offered a ride home, or accompanied to a lecture. It had stricken him with a sad thought. These are the things that they should have been doing all along. It really wasn’t a hassle to watch a nerdy movie with the kid as long as it was in English, so why had he treated it like it would be?

  
  
  


Unsubs rarely turned out to be kids, but this was one of those cases with a twist at every corner. The cops had to drag the kid away and he ended up spraining his arm in his attempt to break away. They had seen it all before, the kicking and screaming and denial, but one sentence struck a nerve with Spencer. “I haven’t done anything,” he had growled into an officer's face.

_“Confess!” The blow jerked him sideways. He had never feared for his life like he did in that shed. “I haven’t done anything.” It wasn’t his fault. He just wanted the pain to stop. When the next hit landed, he felt foam rise into his mouth. “Tobias, help me.” When his head hit the ground, he knew what was happening. The combination of drugs and head trauma provoked a seizure. It wasn’t painful, but he felt the way he was jerking, and then he was gone._

“Reid? We’re leaving.”

_When he came to, he gasped in air. His lungs ached and his head was pounding, but Raphael was talking again._

Someone was shaking his shoulders and he snapped back to reality. He was pulled into an embrace. He didn’t notice that was crying until he pulled away and saw the wet spot on his friend's suit jacket. “I’m sorry.”

The flashbacks were happening more often and the cravings were getting more powerful. Something inside of him was breaking and he couldn’t figure out how to stop it. 

  
  
  


Spencer had been better about eating. At some point, he had gotten himself back up to two meals a day. It was a long process, of course, but he considered himself an expert after speeding through countless books about refeeding syndrome and nutrition. 

That progress slowed when Alex left. Another person gone from his life, this time without a note. He had seen it coming for months, but it still dug deep. Then, the improvement stopped all together. Another team dinner, this time with Kate, who he made a point of being nice to, if only for his own peace of mind. 

The meal of choice was, as Rossi had announced in an exaggerated accent, ‘Pesce alla Griglia’. The sizzling fish smelled delicious, which Penelope made known. “Rossi, ha un profumo incredibile,” she smirked.

“Oh, you know Italian?” The senior agent had a sparkle in his eye as he turned from his stove. He figured that he could leave the fish unattended for a few seconds while he talked.

“Actually, Emily taught me a few phrases, just for the occasion.” She tipped her glass toward him before taking a swig. While the rest of the team laughed, the youngest agent couldn’t tell what the cause of the curl in his stomach was, but the sound from the pan was suddenly setting him on edge. 

Then, the smell hit him like a truck. _Given that odors enhance the retrieval of autobiographical memories, they can induce reactions like physiological arousal and trigger trauma-related flashbacks._ He knew what was happening yet he was helpless to stop it. 

_“What’s that smell?”_

Morgan heard Reid mumble something under his breath, but when he turned to ask him to repeat, he stopped at the haunted look in his friend's eyes. “Reid?” 

_The putrid scent blocked his airway and burned his lungs. Hankel looked on in distaste, “They’re burning fish hearts and livers.” Spencer shivered at the cold stare. “Keeps away the devil.” He distantly remembered what Gideon had said about perverting the bible. His mind went blank for a second when Raphael held the bullet up for him to see. “It’s God’s will.” He was an atheist._

“Sir, the fish!” Rossi realized his mistake and sprung into action, scraping the crisp monstrosity into the trash can. Reid had backed himself against the far wall while Morgan tried desperately to pull him out of his head. 

_As he dug his own grave, quite literally, he_ _prayed to a god that he didn’t believe in to save the day. A deep fatigue set into him, slowing his movements._

_“I’m not strong enough.”_

Kate watched the scene with confusion. She had never seen him so much as disheveled and this was a whole new level. She definitely didn’t think the young doctor would have PTSD, but it made sense with their jobs.

“Reid? Look at me.” Morgan had seen this enough times to know how to handle it. “You are having a flashback; it isn’t real.” His hands were up so that the other could see he wasn’t in danger. “I need you to breathe with me. In and out. Yeah like that, good.” The older agent watched as his friend slowly came back to reality. After a moment, he brought his hands down to Reid’s shoulders. “I need you to name five things you see, four you can touch, three you can hear, and one you can taste.”

He stopped eating all together. Some days he ate something small, to keep himself alive and able to work in the field, but others, he went without food completely. At first, he tried, but everything tasted bland. He gave up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I'm pretty sure that I was more traumatized by Revelations than Spencer was haha. I hate how little media representation there is for serious ptsd so I just ✨project✨.
> 
> i am hungry for kudos and comments.


	4. What a Thing to've Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His friends are worried and Spencer admits to something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a filler, sorry I couldn't get anything out sooner 😅

Spencer’s condition worsened and he kept losing weight until it all came to a boiling point, exactly 8 years after the Hankel case. His hair had started to come out in clumps and he could never seem to get enough sleep.

Sometimes, when he jolted awake at ungodly hours, screaming, his own revolver scared him. At his worst moments, he would stare at it for hours, running his fingers over the grooves and spinning the cylinder. He had survived Russian roulette three times and it left an imprint on him. 

Mostly, he wasn’t bothered by his past. He could still put together a perfect profile, take down an unsub in the field, and pass as fine to his friends. But, in solitude, he was crumbling. It felt he was speeding down a highway with no exits. 

The only ones he couldn’t convince, though, were Derek and Penelope.

The two had been in Garcia’s ‘bat cave’ with JJ far too long for him not to be suspicious. He tried to focus on the report in front of him, but he kept sneaking glances to the hall that led to his friends.

When he heard them approaching the bull-pen, he forced his eyes back down. Footsteps coming toward him made his heart rate pick up. Then, someone was towering over his desk. “Kid,” it was Morgan. “Can we talk to you?” He felt a weight on the back of his chair as Garcia spun it to face the other. 

Just because he was miserable, didn’t mean that Reid had changed. He was still too stubborn to accept help. He glared at Morgan, “Any good reason for distracting me from this paperwork?”

Morgan sighed and shook his head solemnly. “In Garcia’s office?”

“Morgan,” he could play their game, “I’m working.” He could already tell that this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. The way that JJ looked at him with sympathy and Garcia massaged his shoulders made him uneasy. It may have been in inescapable doom, but he was prepared to fight it tooth and nail, just to keep his dignity.

Until, Morgan leaned down and whispered to him, “If I were you, I wouldn’t want to make a scene.” He stood straight again, thoroughly amused when the genius rose to his feet immediately. If the other hadn’t agreed, they probably wouldn’t have pressed any further, but he couldn’t resist the chance to mess with him.

JJ closed the door behind them and locked the door so they wouldn’t be interrupted. When she turned, he noticed that she had been crying. “What’s wrong?”

“Spence, are you taking again?” His breath caught in his throat. Did they really think he would get back on Dilaudid after everything? _You broke their trust._

“No! Why do you even care?” He was offended; he interrupted when JJ tried to talk. “You never cared before, so just leave me alone. Do you seriously think that you can fix this after ignoring me for so long?” His friends seemed shocked at the outburst.

“I know that I shouldn’t be angry anymore, but I am. I love you guys, I do, but don’t expect me to spill everything to you the second you ask me. Fuck off.” He skirted past JJ and out the door. He was still pissed so he went to the breakroom to grab a coffee and cool down. 

  
  
  


Reid hadn't talked to Morgan, JJ, or Garcia outside of work since they had confronted him, but that was only speeding up the decline of his mental health. A week passed before he walked into work and saw the three in Hotch’s office. _Oh shit, am I going to get suspended?_

Hotch had threatened suspension quite a few times when Spencer had been suffering through withdrawals and willing to start a fight with anyone and it had forced him to be on his best behavior for the time after he had sobered. The risk still loomed over him, though.

He was on edge all morning, but, to his luck, they got a case. The unsub had already killed two and there were three girls missing in the area, so they got straight on the plane. The local police were kind, and offered their assistance on anything they needed. It was a direct contrast to their last case, a few days prior.

The chilly mountain air was a huge refresher and cleared his mind. During the case, his focus shifted from his own anxiety to finding the missing girls. 

  
  
  


They had caught the unsub, but he was ruthless and two other girls had died. The hard work was always worth it though, seeing the tears of relief as the sibling of the girl they saved embraced her. 

Turning away from the reunion, Spencer came face to face with his boss. It was quite a jump scare and he jumped back. “Holy shit! Hey, Hotch…” His voice raised a few pitches and he showed a shaky smile.

Hotch gave him the look of, _‘stop talking.’_ “When we get back to Quantico, I need to see you in my office.” Rationally, he knew that it probably wasn’t anything bad, Hotch just had a way of making everything sound like an impending doom, but his mind still jumped to every possibility. 

Trudging off the jet, he wondered if he could make a break for the door, but gave up the notion when he saw the unit chief pacing in his office. When he walked in, the older told him to close the door behind him. “Spencer, I don’t know what’s going on, but everyone is worried. I want you to either talk to someone here, or take two weeks off.” 

“What? Hotch, fine. I don’t need you to baby me.” An offstandish reaction was probably not the best reaction, he decided, when Hotch turned to glare. Sighing, “By someone here you mean…” 

“A therapist, yes, but, talking to your friends would help, too. Everyone cares about you, so please, work with me here.”

The pleading eyes of his superior broke him. There was a sudden wetness to his eyes. “Hotch, I need help.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might not update for a few weeks because I have hit a serious case of writers block, but I will be back soon!
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


	5. You're Skin and Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer gets some therapy 🙏

_ “Hotch, I need help.” _ His hands came up to cover his face.

The other took in a sharp breath and came to stand next to him. A hand was on his shoulder and then he was pulled into a hug. “We weren’t there for you then, but we will be now.”

The team ended up sitting down and talked about the predicament. Rehab was not an option and, while excellent profilers, they didn’t know how to handle something like this. It was humiliating for Spencer, but he got through it. Copious amounts of research on Hotch’s part took place, and he figured out a system.

Spencer and Derek sat across from each other in the breakroom a week after the conversation. The older was sipping a coffee and trying to make it through a case report while the other was busy trying to choke down a microwaved toaster strudel. 

“Hey, you can go back to your desk now. I’ll be there in a second.” The other looked at him wearily so he continued, “Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine.” 

Derek sighed but still left. Spencer headed into one of the bathrooms. Once the stall door was locked behind him, he slid down it.  _ This is pathetic _ , he thought. He crawled to the toilet and shoved a few fingers into his mouth. The disgusting slosh spilled from his mouth. He flushed his breakfast down the toilet with a shaky hand.  _ No one has to know _ . He sat on the pristine tiles for a while before cleaning himself up and making his way to the bullpen.

They had gotten a case before lunch, so he was relieved when everyone paid more attention to it than him. None of them ate until late that night at their hotel. They had hit a dead end around midnight and called it a day. He thought he could avoid it, but Hotch had knocked on his door and asked what he wanted from room service. The two ate together and when Hotch retreated to his own room, the younger ended up on the bathroom floor for the second time that day.

The unit chief was unnerved to find that the agent was still losing weight at an alarming rate despite their best efforts to help. 

Spencer knew that he had been the one to ask for help, but he was still annoyed to find that ‘help’ included being watched like a hawk while he ate. Now that he had a constant supervisor, he would barely keep down anything he ate. He knew that he needed sustenance to stay useful on the job, so he would avoid the urge to bring up healthier foods.

Team dinners were the worst. He still enjoyed them, but the amount of food was nearly unbearable and the eyes of so many people wandering over to watch him made him uncomfortable. Even worse was when they ate out because the others always chose restaurants whose menus consisted of greasy, heavy foods. 

It was embarrassing to get through a quarter of a curry meal and be sick to your stomach. The feeling of being bloated was something he was used to but still dreaded. Every time they ate together he would struggle through a meal just so he could get to the restrooms. His teeth were beginning to pay the price; acid started to wear them down.

He was distantly aware that being in the field was a dangerous task. Shaky hands were never ideal, and almost passing out during a takedown put everyone in danger, not just him. His friends grew more concerned every day, which in turn stressed him out more. Lying to them filled him with an unparalleled guilt. Spencer knew he was dying, but he didn’t have the energy to care. 

Surprisingly enough, it was Rossi who figured it out. He tried to follow Spencer to the bathroom to talk to him privately and was surprised to open the door to sounds of vomiting. He rapped his knuckles against the stall door, “Shit kid, are you okay?” The other coughed and there was shuffling before the door swung open and he shuffled past the older.

“I’m fine, I probably caught something on the last case,” he replied while washing his hands. Rossi was suspicious but pushed it aside. 

“Why don’t you go home? Or at least take a break. I’ll go tell Hotch.” He turned to leave, but Spencer grabbed his arm.

“Please, don’t tell Hotch. I’m okay, I just need to grab some coffee and get back to work.” The senior agent let it go but promised himself he would keep an eye on the other.

When he realized that Spencer occupied the bathroom after every meal, he felt compelled to follow him again. Instead of gentle knocking, he pounded on the door. “Open up, Reid.” He was angrier at himself than the kid, he just didn’t know how to express that.

“Uh, what’s up.” Instead of replying, Rossi just stormed out of the room, Spencer hot on his trail. “Rossi, it’s not what it looks like, I-”

“What does it look like, Spencer?” He felt bad seeing the fear on the other’s face but didn’t let up. He didn’t get a response right away, so he continued his journey to the Unit Chief’s office. Spencer ran in after him. 

His voice was shaky when he pleaded, “Rossi, please don’t do this.”

Hotch looked on warily, “What’s going on?”

“I just walked in on a very interesting scene. Apparently, this kid hasn’t been keeping his food down.” Taking his anger out on Spencer wasn’t helping the situation, he knew that, but he couldn’t help it. “He’s been sticking his fingers down his throat, the bastard.”

On the other hand, Aaron was filled with sympathy seeing tears well in his youngest agent’s eyes. “Thank you, Rossi, I’d like to speak to him alone.” The man nodded and left, probably retreating to his own office. “So, what was that about?”

He shifted from foot to foot, “It’s nothing, Hotch.”

The unit chief had always been amazed at how awful Spencer was at lying despite being a profiler. “I doubt that Rossi would come into my office like that over nothing.” The phone on his desk started ringing and he sighed before picking it up. “This is Hotchner.” The other agent felt relief wash over him. “We’ll talk about this later. For now, tell everyone we have a case.”

He leaned against his desk to calm himself to not end up snapping at his subordinates. Meanwhile, Reid scurried to alert the team. “We just got a case.”

Opening the file, he felt bile rise in him again, this time not by his own volition. His eyes flew over the page, taking in the information. Garcia’s heels clicked against the flooring when she walked into the room. “Last night, uh, this girl, Gina Bryant, flagged down a police car in St. Louis.”

The case wrapped up with as happy of an ending as it could have, with the mother of the deceased girl killing the man that kidnapped her daughter. When Hotch called him back into his office, he heard the muffled conversation of Rossi and Morgan. 

“So, about what Rossi told me. I don’t blame you, but I want you to know that I will be keeping a closer eye on you.” They talked for a while, and Hotch made him sign up for a therapy appointment. “You don’t have to go all of the time, I just want you to go to the first appointment and see where it goes from there.”

He met with a kind woman the next day. She shook his hand when and they sat down together. “I am Dr. Lynn, it’s great to meet you. When we spoke on the phone, I know that your boss was present, but please know that he will not know anything that we talk about here.”

During their first appointment, they did icebreaker questions. He learned that her favorite color was the same as his, purple, and that she had a few dogs. He was at a loss when she asked, “What do you hope to be doing after retirement?” He realized that he had never thought past this job, and it scared him.

Their next appointment was delayed due to a case, but after that, they talked about how the job and its training affected his daily life. They branched off when he mentioned his mom. Instead, she asked about his childhood, parents, and schooling. She scribbled notes while he rambled about his mom, “I recently moved her from Nevada to Texas so she could see a doctor about her Alzheimer's.” 

He cried the next meeting when they talked about his eating problems. Dr. Lynn handed him tissues, gave suggestions, and listened to him rant. When the hour was up, she asked permission before hugging him. 

Despite missing some days due to work, he tried to make it as much as possible. He was grateful that Hotch brought it up because therapy was helping him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back :)


	6. Turn Into Something Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get worse before thaey get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has spoilers up to season 12.

Derek’s resignation took him by surprise. One day they were joking around and the next they were hugging goodbye. _“I know you hate goodbyes, kid. And change.”_ That night he fell asleep leaning against his bathroom wall. When he woke up, the cold tiles stung his palms and his neck ached from the angle it had been at.

He heaved himself up, using the sink to steady himself. His hair stuck out in odd directions and there were tear tracks dried on his face. He itched for a glass vial filled with something to take the pain away. Distantly, he heard his alarm clock blare from his bedroom.

Shrugging on clean clothes, he fumbled for his messenger bag. His phone screen was too bright and his head was throbbing. He gulped down an ibuprofen and mug of coffee. He paused in the kitchen but decided against grabbing anything, feeling too numb to care about recovery.

On the metro, he checked his phone while one hand clung to a handle. There was a text from Garcia that read ‘Hey boy genius! Are you free to talk?’ His chest filled with a pang of guilt seeing the text he had ignored the previous day. More pressing was a missed call from the sanitarium that his mother resided at.

As soon as he stepped off of the train, he pressed the ‘Return Call’. “Hello! This is the Houston Sanitarium, how may I help you?”

“Hey, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. I missed a call yesterday,” his teeth chattered when he replied.

“Oh, Dr. Reid. We were just calling to inform you of your mother’s condition. Her Alzheimer's is getting worse. Dr. Lang recommends that you visit her,” the receptionist’s voice was coated in sympathy which in turn made him feel worse.

“Uh, thank you, Sally. I’ll try but right now I have to go.” He hung up before she could reply and shoved his phone back into his bag. 

Arriving at work eased him slightly; the transition from the freezing air to the warm building almost heavenly. Agents from other branches bustled around the lobby as he showed his I.D. and walked to the elevators. He nearly bumped into Garcia, dressed in a fluffy pink sweater and carrying two rather large mugs of hot chocolate. “Hey,” he started, “sorry I didn't get your text last night.”

“It’s fine. I was actually on my way to see you but you're right here,” he was used to her peppiness, even in the morning, but today it rubbed him the wrong way. “Hotch says we have the day off of paperwork but we still have to stick around in case something comes in, so how would you like to hang in my office?” 

If it was any other day, he would have taken the offer without another thought, but today was different. He didn’t feel like socializing and there was still a dull pain lingering in his head. “Uh, maybe later.” He took the mug she presented to him with a, “Thank you,” and went the short distance to his desk.

He wasn’t off of his feet for long before Hotch emerged from his office, gesturing for the team to follow him. “We have four dead girls, all killed by this man, Frederick Kingsley. He was just released from prison earlier this month. He was there for grand theft auto so that is _quite_ the escalation,” Garcia was already explaining when he took his seat. 

There weren’t many cases that Spencer hadn’t worked with Derek Morgan. That filled him with a sense of dread. The older had been his safety net; he trusted him to keep him safe. Obviously, people left the team every once in a while - Elle, Emily, Jason, etc.- but he wasn’t ready for Derek to be gone yet. 

The killer had been surprisingly easy to find - considering how long it had taken the local police to catch him the first time - and they were back on the plane in no time. He sat against the window with a book open, staring blankly at the seat that Morgan would be in. 

“Are you ever going to turn that page?” He almost jumped at JJ’s voice and looked over.

“I haven’t finished it yet.” It was a lame excuse, but the only one he had.

“You miss him, huh?” He gave a jerky nod, keeping his eyes glued to the book instead of his friend. “Yeah, me, too.”

She looked away and Rossi butted into their conversation. “Me three.” 

They focused on Hotch when they heard a familiar name. “That’s not a lot to go on, Emily.”

Spencer was happy to hear from her again, the circumstances didn’t really matter. “I know. But it’s him. I know it is.” She was talking about a case; she had been chasing a killer through multiple countries and had pinned him down in New York. When Hotch ended the video call, he sat down with them. 

They went over details of the case, Garcia listing off victims and the killers that were copied. He moved his focus from Morgan to the killer, giving his own opinions. When they landed, Tara was already there, talking to Emily. Rossi was the first to announce their presence, “There she is!”

Emily laughed as she embraced Rossi then JJ, “It’s so great to see you guys.” He hugged her next and she exclaimed, “Oh, Brainiac, I love the ‘do.” He was reminded of how much he missed her and shuffled back to make room. He smiled, stress temporarily melting away. 

Shortly after Emily, JJ, and Rossi returned from the crime scene, they got a lead. The others left while he and Rossi stayed at the police station again. Without much to do, his mind wandered. He avoided thinking of Morgan, instead letting his thoughts drift to his mother.

When the team returned, they informed them that there had been another murder. “It’s time to deliver the profile,” Hotch stated, storming out. Finding a cooperative police force was always a blessing so he was glad that this department worked with them.

After making a break in the case that led them to Chicago, Reid was happy to have time to relax on the plane. It was less relaxing when Emily had a nightmare - something that he was familiar with. He was at a loss for what to do so he let the others handle it. He felt bad that his only contribution was, “You almost did,” but brushed it off. 

Garcia was able to find the unsub and contact the local police but he got there first. The tires screeched when Hotch slammed on the breaks. A gunshot ripped through the air and everyone got moving. When the case was over, they flew back to Quantico with Emily.

Reid and Rossi were talking when they heard Garcia, Emily, and JJ make dinner plans. Rossi got to the door first and asked to join, “Did somebody say girl's night?” 

Emily promised to make an exception so he interrupted with, “Me too?”

“Not a chance.” His smile fell into a pout to play up the dramatics and she laughed, “Just kidding.” Rossi offered to buy and Emily settled on Mexican. JJ chose a place that they had been to a long time ago, while Elle was still there. 

Even with the voice nagging in the back of his mind not to, he found himself eating most of his meal. He was too distracted by the brightness that Emily brought to focus on the darkness that was his emotions.

Later that night, he felt empty again. He had missed a therapy appointment while they were in New York so he picked up the phone anyway. “Spencer, hello. What do you need?” They talked about Derek, then Emily, his mom, the latest case - everything. 

He didn’t feel better when he was left alone, moonlight pouring through the open curtains but at least someone else knew that he was hurting.

After the ordeal with Hotch's arrest, Reid tried to ignore what happened that day. Instead of worrying himself, he entertained Jack and Henry. He was delighted to hear them laughing when he pulled the playing card from behind Garcia’s ear.

His thoughts weren’t on recent events while they dined at Rossi’s but he was pulled back to reality when Hotch got a text. They all followed him into Rossi’s house. The news was worse than whatever he had expected. serial killers from all over the country were just released back into the world and a lot of people were in danger.

After the prison breaks, he didn’t see his therapist often. They barely had any down-time before they were flying out to stop another murderer in their tracks. For months, they worked without stop but their time was paying off because the majority of fugitives were caught with minimal losses.

Everything had calmed down and he was able to take his mom to Paris. He was telling JJ about the trip when Rossi came up. “What did I miss while I was gone? Tell me about agent Alvez.” When Hotch first talked about inviting the manhunter to the team, his immediate reaction was anger. He had to remind himself that Morgan wouldn’t want him to be rude to the new arrival so he quelled the instinct.

He listened as JJ and Rossi talked about him and asked, “What does Garcia think about him?” Garcia’s input on new members was important to him - after all, her judgment had rarely led them astray. The grimaces that his friends gave him told him everything that he needed to know. 

Meeting Alves was much different than hearing about him. “Hey. Luke Alves.” He looked from the file he was looking through. 

“Oh hi,” he was nervous - as he was with most people, “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Ah. No handshaking, right?” He was flattered that the other knew the information - probably from JJ. “Your, uh, reputation precedes you.”

“So does yours,” he talked animatedly, taking care to treat the man as a friend, not an enemy. “It says here that you caught or next fugitive, Daniel Cullen, three years ago.” He recited a detail from the case before asking, “How’d you finally catch him?”

Alvez was explaining how his partner went deep cover when Rossi, Hotch, and Lewis walked in with new information.

On the plane, Spencer noticed something. When new people joined, they usually looked down on him. Rossi had even taken it a step further to interrupt his rants - not as kindly as his friends would. He only noticed it because he had put his guard up with the new man.

Luke fit into the team surprisingly well even without Penelope’s approval. Where the usually bubbly agent retracted from the SSA in training, Spencer overcompensated, pursuing friendship more than before. He thought he might be trying to fill a void that Derek left, but didn’t necessarily care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get a new chapter out asap lol


	7. You Know I Love You So

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer brings his mom home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers through the beginning of season 12.

The team was still getting past the loss of Morgan when Hotch resigned. He was elated that it was Emily that would take his place but the potential that he would most likely never talk to the man again was too much of a disruptor to be able to celebrate. He could call or text Morgan whenever he wanted; Hotch was a different story.

The agent was no stranger to flashbacks so it wasn't a surprise when he heard faint voices that he knew weren’t real.  _ “Reid.”  _ Luckily, the flashbacks he was prone to experiencing were auditory - he didn’t think he could handle the sight of the graveyard again.  _ “You alright?” _

Looking back at that night, he wished he could experience the embrace of the former unit chief again.  _ “I knew you’d understand.”  _

He violently shook his head to clear the memory and went back to finding his phone in the mess of his bag. Just as he found it, JJ came up behind him, “Hey! Welcome back.”

He shot up to hug her, “I missed you so much.” He had returned from Houston after moving his mom from the facility there to his own home. Pulling back, he looked at the unfamiliar man, “You must be Walker.”

“Great to finally meet you.” Meeting people often led to anxious ramblings.

“It’s really great to finally meet you. Heard nothing but wonderful things,” which was true. Emily had poured over the phone about the man and his past work. There was a ring from his desk, “Excuse me.” He recognized the number and picked up, “Dr. Reid here.” 

The nurse’s voice was frantic and angry as she yelled about his mother trashing the apartment. “What?” She explained what happened in a calmer tone, “Alright, stay there. I’ll be right- I’m on my way, ok? Thanks.” The call ended and he left with the excuse of a broken water pipe and left. He took the stairs two at a time to avoid the elevator and practically ran to the metro station.

He got home to a wet floor and soggy books. A knot formed in his throat when he saw the ruined copy of The Collector. It had been purchased after the case with Randall Garner - that had been named the ‘Fisher King’ case. He stooped to attempt to dry it - the book held a lot of sentimental value - when the nurse came out of his bedroom. 

“Don’t worry, I’m never coming back!” He flinched at the yell and stood when she stomped out, pulling on a jacket. 

“Woah, what are you doing?” If no one was with his mom, he wouldn’t be able to work.

“Leaving,” she spat.

The pitch of his voice was high with anxiety, “You can’t leave. We have an agreement. You signed a contract.”

“The contract didn’t say anything about a crazy person threatening my life.” That made him angry. His mother wasn’t crazy and the contract had stated that she had schizophrenia. “She did this on purpose. Goodbye.”

Diana came out of the room a second later, “Is she gone?” 

He was frustrated, asking, “Mom, what did you say to her?”

“She was trying to get information from me,” she stressed. The door was left wide open and she ran to it, “Kept asking questions.” His ears rang as she slammed the door and slid the lock shut. 

“Of course she was. She’s supposed to,” he argued. He didn’t know where to go from here. 

“We can only trust each other now. Nobody else. Just you and me.” Filled with sympathy, he let it go in favor of grabbing a mop. 

He soaked up as much of the water as he could before getting a text from Garcia. ‘Conference call in 10.’ Sighing, he swept the mop over the floor a few more times. “Be careful not to slip,” he warned when his mother returned. “I have to jump on a conference call for work. Are you gonna be okay for a few minutes?”

“Spencer, I’m, sorry,” her eyes darted around the room. “This mess.”

“It’s okay. I know it was an accident.” He quickly cleaned off his desk while she surveyed the damage. 

Picking up a wet book, she sighed, “Your books are ruined.” She was obviously guilty but when he tried to reassure her, she brushed it off, “Destroying a book is like… destroying a whole world.” When she took his recommendation of lying down for a while, he was relieved.

Turning around to see the drawer open and the medicine missing, a disgusting feeling washed over him. He opened the bathroom door to see his mom pouring the liquid into the toilet bowl and yelped, “Mom, don’t do that!” He rushed to grab the vial from her hand, “Don’t do that! Stop that!”

She was scared when she tried to pull away, “Leave me alone! Stop, stop! Give it back to me!”

They wrestled to get the bottles from each other, Spencer winning out in the end, prying the other’s hands open. He followed her when she ran for the door, stopping her from leaving, “Why did you do that? Why?”

He tried not to be offended when she growled, “I hate that stuff and I hate you!”

“Do you have any idea what I went through to get that medicine, mom?” The shady doctor, Rosa, was hard to pin down and even harder to negotiate with. “It can’t be replaced. Do you realize that?”

“Good! I want to go back home,” this time, he was taken back.

His voice broke when he answered, “This is home.”

“No, it isn’t. I want to go back to where I was before!” The yelling was getting them nowhere but he couldn’t help it.

“You said you hated Houston!” He had only brought her to Virginia because she had begged him to take her with him, crying and talking about how awful the place was.

“No, I want to go back to where I was before before!” He wouldn’t take her back to Bennington; she was getting no help there and he was rarely able to see her. “Before!”

She pulled out of his grasp and he saw her hand raising too late to stop it. His head whipped to the side when her palm connected with it. His cheek stung and he was close to tears for the second time that day. As he righted himself, she was about to swing again. He stood still, bracing for the impact, but she stopped short. 

She walked back to his bedroom, slamming the door once again and he just stared after her.  _ There will definitely be bruising _ , he thought weakly. He was no longer angry, just num. 

He tried to stay focused on researching the case the team was on but found himself reaching for his burning cheek. Hearing movement in his bedroom, he wiped his tears.

“Well, that was just what I needed.” She was completely calm now.

The whiplash between emotions left him confused, “Hm?”

“My nap. It really did the trick.” She paused, walking toward the window, “Oh, my goodness. My scrapbook.” A realization struck him; it was likely that she didn’t remember anything that happened. “Oh, I’ve been keeping this since I don’t know when.”

“Oh, honey,” her soft voice returned the swamp of emotions that often came with talking to his mother. “What did you do to your face? It’s all red.”

He pulled out the same explanation he used every time he got a bruise, scratch, or broken bone. “Probably bumped into something.”

“You really need to be more careful. It’s really awful.” She recited what she always did, “You know, you always were so clumsy. Smart as a whip. But I used to call you Crash.”

Crash; an affectionate name was gifted to him shortly after his dad left. The black eye and cracked glasses he wore were from a book, thrown across the living room in a moment of fear but he swore to his mother that everything was alright.  _ “Alright,” _ she ruffled his hair,  _ “whatever you say, Crash.” _

He never blamed her. Not even when he was sixteen, visiting from Caltech after earning his first degree, and she twisted his arm so far it broke, accusing him of being an imposter. Teachers were always worried, especially in high school, but he learned quickly that by showing off, you earn their hatred instead of pity. 

Later that night, when she asked who he was, he felt wrong forever leaving in the first place. After reporting a theory to Prentiss, Rossi, and Walker, he waited for a while. Hours later, he received another text from Garcia, ‘Good job boy genius! We saved the day,’ he was content to go to bed. 

Sacrificing comfort - and, without noticing, dinner - he fell asleep on the armchair next to his bed.

He took a few days off work hoping that the purple on his cheek would fade and to wait for the new nurse to start. The next Monday, he was back in the bureau and ready for work. He was grabbing a coffee in the kitchenette when he heard Garcia’s heels clicking down the hallway. “Oh! You’re back,” she shuffled over to him, pulling him into a hug.

“Yeah, sorry for bailing,” he laughed. 

“You should be, I had to solve the last case all by myself while those knuckleheads- oh…” she stopped and he looked up from pouring gross amounts of sugar into his mug. She looked about ready to cry which took Spencer by surprise. 

“Are you oka-” Cutting in, she grabbed his face, turning it to the side.

In his shock, he didn’t pull away. “What happened to your face?” Opening his mouth to shoosh her, he was interrupted. “That is a handprint. Sweet boy, what happened? Who did this?” 

It was a wonder that she hadn’t attracted the attention of any passing agents but he didn’t want to take the chance. Turning away, he walked down the hall that led to her office, smiling when he heard the fast pace of her walking.

She closed the door behind her and waited patiently. Reid was pacing, gathering the courage to tell her what happened. “You can’t tell anyone about this, got it?” He continued when he saw her frantic nodding, “I don’t think my mom is getting any better,”

She gasped, bringing a hand up to her mouth. “Your mom hit you?”

“It isn’t even that- It’s not her fault.” He made a point not to look at her as he left but he knew she was crying. He shoved down the regret and was on his way to his desk when he saw everyone in the conference room.

“Spencer, hey,” Emily greeted. “We would have waited for you but I thought you had another day off.”

He dug his heel into the ground nervously, “Uh, yeah. My mom's new nurse starts today so I thought I would come in.”

Emily nodded and went back to the case. “By the way, did you see Garcia on your way in?”

His head shot up, “Hm? Oh, yeah, I think she’s in her office.” 

They only had to wait for a few minutes before Penelope came rushing in. “I’m so sorry! I got caught up in something.” She gave him a sad look then started her presentation.

_ The two dead teens in Ohio are more important than my home life _ , he thought. Sitting in the Wapakoneta police station three hours later, he sent a text, ‘Something happened. Can we meet?”


	8. I Swam Across

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of the prison arc...

The air in the holding cell that Spencer was sitting in was thick and humid. He tried to think about what happened and how he got there, but everything was too fuzzy. He wasn’t sober enough to feel panic about the fact that he was high or in a jail in Mexico.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the border, his friends were in crisis mode. Emily, Rossi, and Luke boarded the jet in a hurry while the others did all the research they could. Tara was convinced that the bastard that kidnapped her brother just months ago was doing this to Spencer. “This has got to be scratch. He was laying low. Now we know why.”

Luke responded, “Crossing the border as a fugitive is a huge risk.”

Emily thought about the theory before adding, “The reward is greater. He’s been punishing the team. Now he’s targeting Reid.”

“Peter Lewis dropped off the map after attacking Tara’s family. Maybe he’s been hiding in Mexico this whole time.”

The unit chief wanted to believe it - because if it was true, they had a simple explanation - but she wasn’t sure that it fit. “We also have to consider this isn’t related to him.”

Rossi was immediately defensive, thinking that she was making a remark about the youngest agent. “Who else would it be?”

Luke chimed in, “Drug cartels.” The ex-manhunter was familiar with the work of cartels given his line of work, “Could have threatened Reid and used him as a mule.”

They continued the conversation until JJ returned from her call to Reid’s apartment, “Spence’s mom is okay. The home nurse he hired said all is stable.” Everyone was happy to hear that they had one good thing going for them.

“How long did he tell the nurse he’d be gone,” Luke asked into the phone. 

“Uh, three days,” Emily explained that the length of time was reasonable and that the agent had been going to see his mother’s doctor in Houston. They discussed how close Houston is to the border and when Rossi mentioned the narcotics, Garcia panicked.

“Yeah, exactly. That-that he wouldn’t- he wouldn’t do that.” Her heart was beating fast and she was fending off thoughts of,  _ what if he relapsed _ . “I’m not gonna share any secrets I’m not supposed to, but those drugs were planted on him.”

Walker, noticing her frenzy, wished that he could reassure her, but shared his thoughts nonetheless. “Absolutely, but there’s something bigger in play. That’s why he crossed the border and kept it a secret. There’s something he didn’t want to share with any of you.”

Emily knew the answer but asked anyway, “Okay, so what would make him risk everything?”

JJ just wanted everything to be okay. She wanted her best friend home, safe with - “His mom.”

Penelope was confused - and scared - “Yeah, but she’s here and she’s safe.” Her laptop beeped, “Oh, wait. Cruz just sent me the arresting report. Hold please, translating now. Ok, it says here that Reid was involved in a high-speed chase,” her sentence ended sounding like a question.

“What? He hardly ever drives.” She thought of his old Volvo Amazon, bewildered by the report.

Garcia read through more of the report, “None of this sounds like him. It says he was wearing jeans, he was really confused. This-” The next few sentences squeezed at her heart. “According to the arresting officer, he was really high on something.”

The words echoed in JJ’s mind, sparking a fit of protective anger, “No, no, he wouldn’t do that. Not after what happened with Tobias Hankle.”

Rossi, with the same instinct to snap at anyone who looked at the kid wrong, felt a sudden - somewhat laughable - urge to pull out his gun when Luke asked, “Who’s that?”

The senior agent knew who it was. The night that Reid had spilled his guts out to them in his backyard, Rossi had never felt such a strong onslaught of compassion for another person. He held back a glare when Emily told Spencer’s darkest secret like it was nothing when it meant everything to the younger. “An offender with D.I.D who kidnapped and drugged Reid.”

Tara was also stupefied by how casual the remark was, “When was this?” When JJ told her that it had been ten years, she was horrified at the math. He would have been so young.

“What does the report say about the intent to distribute?” They tried to carry on the conversation as if something heavy hadn’t settled into their hearts. 

Staring into an overhead light while getting blood drawn, he had a flashback. Too high to react, he watched his twenty-five-year-old self be injected with Dilaudid all over again- he watched himself plead with Tobias Hankle. He knew that he was starting to come down, and laid on one of the benches. 

_ His father’s voice swirled around him, “I’m not gonna have this conversation in front of him.” It wasn’t true, they had the same conversation within earshot a hundred times.  _

_ “I’m not crazy,” he heard his mom as his eyes rolled back. It was the same scene he saw in the shed. _

_ ‘“If you refuse to take care of yourself, I can’t help you.” Young Spencer watched his dad shove clothes into a suitcase.  _

_ “You’re weak,” Diana spat.  _

_ He turned to her when his dad brushed past him on the way to the front door. “I’m not weak.”  _ As he watched the memory of hugging his mom play out he whispered the same thing.

“I’m not weak.” The three words had become somewhat of a motto over the years. It had returned to him in the shed and stuck with him through his addiction - through withdrawals that nearly killed him and harsh cravings. “I’m not weak.”

He felt a tear slide down his face and drop to the bench below him. He had no clue how to get through this. 

Luke was no stranger to Mexican police. Years of chasing criminals across both borders gave him knowledge of both the Canadian and Mexican justice systems. He gave up listening to the chief when he saw Spencer. He moved around the others, walking over to the cell. “Hey, Reid. It’s good to see you, brother.” There was no recognition in the other, so he continued, “It’s me, Luke.”

He thanked him for coming then Emily and Rossi came over, the senior agent promising, “We’re gonna get you out of here, kid.”

“We need to work out some details with the locals, okay?” Emily was worried out of her mind seeing her friend’s blown-out pupils and dazed state.

Luke urged, “Who was your contact down here?” 

“Rosa,” he mumbled. “Rosa Medina,” he pulled his sleeve up to show his arm, “I think she’s a doctor.” 

“Alright.” Pulling out his phone, Luke snapped a picture of the writing and sent it to Garcia. “Where did you meet her?”

Their conversation continued and Emily watched with fear settling into her. She squinted, thinking back to 2007 and the similarities between now and then. Pushing that train of thought away, she tackled a more relevant issue, “You’re missing time, aren’t you?”

His voice was quiet and shaky, “It’s peeking out. It’s coming in flashes.” 

“And you’ve been drugged,” she stated.

“Yeah, but I didn’t take it myself.” He was scared, she realized.

Who could blame him though? “Well, of course you didn’t, Spencer.” She looked over to Luke, who had a sad look rivaling her own, “We’re thinking it might be Scratch.”

He repeated, “Scratch,” and she was even more puzzled than before. 

Luke walked away to take JJ’s call. “Hey, JJ,” they heard. 

“Is he okay?” The agents in Quantico had been eagerly awaiting to hear from the others.

“Yeah. I mean, he’s in one piece. It’s just I’m not sure he recognizes us.”

“That could be the drugs,” Stephen offered. 

Tara chimed in to ask, “Would a cognitive help?”

“I really think we’re a little far off for that right now. Um, he definitely didn’t recognize Scratch’s name.” He could practically feel their worry through the phone line while talking about Spencer’s local contact. 

They were able to figure out that ‘Rosa Medina’ was actually Nadie Ramos when Walker suggested that it was an anagram. “Thank you, I’ll ask him.” He hung up and went to show Reid the photo Garcia sent. The younger nodded to show he recognized her so they said their goodbyes and went to find her.

Alvez hadn’t been nauseous at the sight of a body in years but the fact that Reid would probably get pinned with this made his stomach churn and what could have happened. Back in Virginia, no one was faring any better. None of them got any sleep, staying in the building to keep busy and see what they could do to help. 

Tara was in Garcia’s office as the self-appointed second pair of eyes. They figured out that he used his personal passport instead of his work-issued one which set them on edge. The younger version of Reid made her heart ache thinking of what he was going through. “He was making decisions with his heart and not his head.”

“Which I’m intimately familiar with, but none of this would have happened if he would have let us help.” Before she could even finish the sentence, Penelope was rethinking it. Spencer had asked for help before, practically begged for it and they ignored him in favor of being self-righteous. She remembered a time that he practically looked into Gideon’s eyes and told him he needed help and the man that the poor boy had looked up to basically told him to move on. Of course, he wouldn’t bring his problems to them when he had been let down so many times.

Tara tried to soothe her friend, “Well, Penelope, that’s what we’re gonna do now, okay?” 

Garcia knew she had no right to be angry but the anxiety and lack of sleep twisted into an ugly emotion, “Well, I’m still mad at him.” 

Spencer was having a hard time stomaching what was happening. His friends explained that Nadie had been killed. Emily demanded a full tox screen when the chief came in. In turn, he asked the young agent about what he had in his motel room. After he walked away, Spencer explained, Whatever’s in those vials, I was giving it to my mom.” His thoughts were still muggy so he clarified, “That’s the only thing I’m sure of.” 

He tried to cooperate during the cognitive interview, giving all the information he could. A lot was blank but he pieced together all he could from the choppy memories. Not quite sober, he pressed his thumb into the bandage on his arm to ground himself as much as possible. He failed to notice when blood started to seep from the gash again.

Emily saw it though, immediately putting an end to the questioning. “Reid,” she tried but he only pushed harder. “Reid,” this time, he looked up because she laid a hand over his, “Okay. Let’s- let’s take a break, okay?” She paused the recording and stood, “We need to get you cleaned up.” 

She told the others how the interview went and was slammed by the news, “They just charged Reid with the murder of Nadie Ramos.” If they lost Reid in the system, there wouldn’t be a lot they could do to help him. The notion sent a deep sense of dread into her bones.

The notification sent to her computer was one of the worst things she had seen - disregarding crime scene photos. “Reid is going to El Diablo Maximum Security by the end of the day. They just put in the transfer.

Emily was able to get a hold of Matt Simons. She was eternally grateful for the man when he dropped everything he was doing to get on a jet to Mexico. 

Spencer, decidedly sober enough to be credible, explained what happened. “I remember what happened to the vials at home. My mom threw most of them out.” Clara and Matt were able to deduce the doctors' reasoning for convincing him to leave the country, then he asked what was in the vials. As Matt listed off different substances, Reid recognized one. “Where are we right now?”

“Matamoros, Northern Mexico.” It took him a second, but his brain supplied the information he needed.

“Jimson Weed, otherwise known as the Devil’s Snare, originated in Mexico, but its natural growing region is further North or South of the border,” he recited.

Emily smiled, “Now, that sounds like you.” She flipped through contacts for a quick second before landing on who she was looking for, “Garcia, we’ve got some questions.”

The techie was preparing to ‘work magic’ when she heard someone that wasn’t on her team. “Hey, Penelope.”

She was excited now, “Oh, my god. It’s the dulcet tones of Matt Simmons. Are you there to save the day?”  _ Yes _ , she knew, _ he was _ . 

“I'm trying,” he grinned. “Clara’s here, too.”

Sighing, Garcia was comforted by the presence of the IRT agents. “Knowing we have you guys as backup is providing me some much-needed hope, and I work better this way.” 

“Hey, lady, we're trying to catch up on a few things.” It had been a long time since they had worked together, and she was happy to find what they needed. She listed off what was in Nadie Ramos’s file and they found that she had dual citizenship.

Emily perked up, “Well, this changes everything and we need to talk to the consulate.” 

Before they could celebrate, the sheriff came in, “It’s time for his transfer.”

“We’ve had a break in the case,” Emily explained. “The victim was also American, that calls for extradition.” She was not going to let Reid get lost in the system. There wasn’t much they could do once he got there.

“I’ve got orders, sorry.” The look on Spencer’s face made her angry enough to falter for a moment before getting back on task.

The chains they put on him broke her heart but she was already on the phone, “With the victim having dual citizenship, we now have concurrent jurisdiction. It was my understanding that the official order to extradite SSA Spencer Reid would be evaluated.” The response gave her hope, “I understand. Thank you.” She then turned to Luke, “They're taking it to their brass. Go get him.” 

Luke jogged after the officers that left with Reid, “Hey, stop! We just got word that he’s under our jurisdiction. We’ll be taking him back to the U.S. okay?” The look of relief on the younger was worth the trouble, Luke thought.

Back at the bureau, they were at a standstill until Walker came in, “My old unit chief at B.A.P. has a call in to the best legal team the bureau has to offer.”

“We need a dream team.”

“That’s what we’ll get, he assured.”

Tara got off the phone and walked over, “Cruz said we need Reid’s work history, performance reviews, commendations, and reprimands if there are any, and we need them in the next three minutes.”

“Garcia and I compiled a list just in case.” The list of reprimands was short and the worst instance on it was the Owen Savage case. The list of commendations was probably four times as long, something that made JJ smile.

Garcia tapped at her phone and looked up, “Done. It’s sent.” 

Matt Cruz hadn’t done a lot for them as a section chief, even at the best of times, but at least he wasn’t Strauss. If the woman was still in power, they would have been screwed. He brought everything he could to the consulate. Reid was a good agent and the man wasn’t willing to lose him over this. 

Emily was grateful when the news came that the extradition was approved, even when the sheriff stopped her at the door, “Forgive me for feeling like justice isn’t exactly being served with this move.”

I understand. But I can assure you this has gone to the highest ranks and there will be a full investigation. Thank you for working with us.” 

When he asked for the recording, she panicked, “I didn’t record it.”

The man was angry, “But that was our agreement.”

It was a low for Prentiss, going under the law on this to save her friend, but at least he was okay. “I determined he was still under the influence. Anything he said wouldn’t have clarified matters.”

JJ was saddened by the cuffs on her best friend, “Oh, I’m so sorry. It’s only because there’s other people around.”

He was thankful for the jacket that concealed the restraints. “It’s okay.”

“We know you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But I should have told you guys I was going there. I never- never imagined in a million years it would have turned out like this.”

Her heart clenched, “No one thought that this could have happened. Look, you’re not alone in this anymore, okay? No secrets.”

As he agreed, Garcia was achingly reminded of the little kid she was so fond of. She watched him grow from an awkward 20 something to the man before them but right now, he was vulnerable and the look in his eyes betrayed his fear.

She pushed her way in gently, “My turn. Come here you,” she pulled him into what she hoped would be a comforting hug. “Oh, my god.” She pulled back, “Your color’s better. All I had to look at was that mug shot, and it had me really worried.”

“Yeah, we all were.”

“Glad your back.” 

Reid smiled at the newest team member, “Me too,” He turned to JJ, “How’s my mom doing?”

“She’s fine. You don’t need to worry about her, I promise,” she smiled.

“I can’t help it.” He had worried about her every day since he was ten.\

“Trust me,” Tara assured, “Garcia had meals delivered to your mom almost every night. 

_ That sounds like her _ , he thought. 

“And that nurse you got is amazing - Cassie.”

“Cassie, she’s great.”

The atmosphere was getting tense, all of them aware that their time together would be over soon. JJ attempted to diffuse it, “I brought the boys by. Your mom really loved them.”

“I bet she did.” He could imagine her reading them a book or playing chess with Henry.

Emily noticed how off Stephen was and walked over. “Uh, I just got a text,” he stressed. “Reid isn’t eligible for the bureau’s legal assistance.”

“What?” The team had been failed by the bureau countless times, but this stung.

“He was never briefed. And he wasn’t in Mexico on government business. They won’t represent him.” 

_ That is bullshit _ , she thought. There was too much talk over the years for her to not be aware of just what lengths the FBI was willing to go through to keep an agent. There were cases in the department of defense that were worse than this that the bureau signed lawyers onto. It was just that their superiors had no respect for the BAU. “Oh, god. We’re on our own.”

Spencer sat in the precinct cell for hours before Emily came, “You should be in the office.”

“I’m right where I need to be. You okay?” He was eternally grateful for Emily Prentiss, no matter what the future held.

“Yeah, I’m okay. How’s my mom doing?” He got up, moving toward the door.

“She's been doing well. JJ’s been by to visit every day since your arrest. She explained everything to your mom.” She might have found it funny that he was more concerned about his mother than being stuck in a cell if it wasn’t so goddamn sad. “Cassie’s been great. That makes a big difference.”

“I’m such an idiot.”

Emily found that he blamed himself a  _ lot _ \- after Hankle, Cyrus, etc. “Don’t, Spencer, don’t. You were trying to help your mother.”

“I fell right into Scratch's trap,” he sighed.

“He won’t win.”

“He already has.” 

“Just the battle, not the war.” He’s pretty sure that Gideon said the same thing at least once. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You and I both know that doesn’t matter. All that matters is what the prosecutor can prove.” He continued until Emily cut in. “I don’t even have a lawyer.”

“About that- I have a friend, Fiona Duncan. I’ve known her forever. Her father was in the foreign service and we met in Italy when my mother was charge d’affaires at the embassy there. After college, she was a Rhodes Scholar. You’d like her. Anyway, now she’s one of the best defense attorneys in D.C.,” she explained. “I would like it if you would let me reach out to her about representing you.”

“Emily, I really- I appreciate it, but helping me could destroy your reputation at the bureau.”

_ Spencer, ever the worrier.  _ “My battle, my choice. Please, let me help you. Tell me I can reach out to my friend.”

He thought for a second then smiled, “Thank you.”

She sighed, “Good.”

Later, he met the friend Emily talked about. “Spencer, hello. Fiona Duncan. Emily speaks very highly of you.”

Spencer cursed himself internally,  _ This is not the time to be nervous _ . “You, too. It’s nice to meet you.

“I’m sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances.” Emily left and the two remaining in the room sat down.

They didn’t know each other for five minutes before she was accusing him of lying. “You remember more than you’re admitting.”

Spencer was a shitty liar outside of takedowns - he wasn’t sure how he made it this far without his friends catching on - but this wasn’t a lie. “I don’t. Honestly, I- I told the Mexican police everything.”

“Well, that was very cooperative of you.”-  _ No shit, I was high and scared.  _ \- “Too cooperative for someone who has intimate knowledge of the criminal justice system, even someone on drugs.”

That made him angry. He prided himself on being clean and wasn’t going to let her diminish that, “I wasn’t on drugs. I was drugged.”

“You stole the car,” her tone was judgmental.

“That’s what they told me.”

‘Did you know there were drugs in the trunk?”

“I don’t think so.” 

“Was Rosa already dead when you took the car?”

“I’m not sure. She was stabbed. She was bleeding.”

Fiona’s tone was far too accusing for him to be comfortable. She was asking too many questions and he couldn’t figure out the answers. He snapped and ranted and when he finally calmed down, her demeanor changed.

“I believe you.”

He thought about the decision he had to make while Emily talked. “Please, just think about it,” she pleaded, “Think about the evidence.” 

“I know. Scratch dots his Is and crosses his Ts. We know that.”

“But a jury won’t,” she explained. “A jury will only see what Scratch wants them to see.”

He then asked, “Yo think they’ll convict me?”

“I don’t know,” she replied earnestly. “But if they do, five years- that’s doable. You are young. You can have a life after that.”

“Not as an FBI agent.” He didn’t know who he was without the BAU. “I’d be a convicted felon.”

Her face was pensive, “Yes. But you’d be free.”

“The FBI is my home,” he choked out. “It’s where I belong.”

“You don’t belong in prison.” She paused, “And if you play Russian roulette with this… 25 years,” she stressed. “That is a lifetime.”

He had played Russian roulette before. He was still standing, bitter and broken, but alive. He could do it again. “If Scratch is framing me, you will get him. I know you will.”

“Yes, we will. I promise you we will never give up. And we will exonerate you.” She felt like crying. “But what if we can’t do that this week? Or this year? Or this… decade?” He knew she was right. “Because I know we can’t do it before your arraignment.”

He sniffed, “What do I do?”

She wished that she had all the answers for him, but she didn’t. “I don’t know. But I’m scared for you.”

“So am I.” In all of her years as an agent, no one had shattered her quite like the BAU. After everything they went through together, she wanted desperately to make it okay. She couldn’t though. 

She pulled him into a hug before she left. When she got to her car, she sat with the engine running, crying into her hands for at least an hour before driving off. She had no idea where to go from here, so she focused her attention on the pile of paperwork on her desk until the team returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would really like your input on the next few chapter! Should I add a relapse storyline? And, should I add a ship (and which ship would you like to see)?

**Author's Note:**

> The timeline is very off. It starts in season 8-9ish and jumps around until the later chapters which are 11-12.
> 
> Kudos and comments are so appreciated!


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